Autumn - "A sad time ...", favorite time years of poets, philosophers, romantics and melancholics. Poems about autumn will “swirl” with words-winds, “drizzle” with stanzas-rains, “dazzle” with epithets-leaves ... Feel the breath of autumn in autumn poems for children and adults.

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Autumn poems for children, poems by Pushkin, Yesenin, Bunin about autumn

Poems about autumn: A. S. Pushkin

Sad time! Oh charm!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -
I love the magnificent nature of wilting,
Forests clad in crimson and gold,
In their canopy of the wind noise and fresh breath,
And the heavens are covered with mist,
And a rare ray of sun, and the first frosts,
And distant gray winter threats.

AUTUMN

(excerpt)

October has already come - the grove is already shaking off
The last leaves from their naked branches;
The autumn chill has died - the road freezes through.
The murmuring stream still runs behind the mill,
But the pond was already frozen; my neighbor is in a hurry
In the departing fields with his hunt,
And they suffer winter from mad fun,
And the barking of dogs wakes the sleeping oak forests.

Already the sky was breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less
The day was getting shorter
Forests mysterious canopy
She stripped naked with a sad noise.
Fog fell on the fields
Noisy geese caravan
Stretched to the south: approaching
Pretty boring time;
November was already at the yard.

Poems about autumn:

Agniya Barto

JOKE ABOUT SHUROCHKA

leaf fall, leaf fall,
All the link rushed to the garden,
Shura came running.

Leaves (hear?) rustle:
Shurochka, Shurochka...

A shower of leaves lacy
Rustles about her alone:
Shurochka, Shurochka...

Three leaves swept,
Approached the teacher
- Things are going well!
(I'm working, mind you, they say,
Praise Shurochka,
Shurochka, Shurochka ...)

How the link works
Shura doesn't care
Just to point out
Whether in the classroom, in the newspaper,
Shurochka, Shurochka...

leaf fall, leaf fall,
The garden is buried in leaves,
Leaves rustle sadly
Shurochka, Shurochka...

Poems about autumn:

Alexey Pleshcheev

Boring picture!
Clouds without end
The rain is pouring down
Puddles on the porch…
stunted rowan
Wet under the window
Looks village
Gray spot.
What are you visiting early
Autumn, come to us?
Still asks the heart
Light and warmth!

AUTUMN SONG

The summer has passed
Autumn has come.
In fields and groves
Empty and dull.

The birds have flown
The days got shorter
The sun is not visible
Dark, dark nights.

AUTUMN

Autumn has come
dried flowers,
And look sad
Bare bushes.

Wither and turn yellow
Grass in the meadows
Only turns green
Winter in the fields.

A cloud covers the sky
The sun doesn't shine
The wind howls in the field
The rain is drizzling..

Noisy water
fast stream,
The birds have flown away
To warm climes.

Poems about autumn:

Ivan Bunin

LEAF FALL

Forest, like a painted tower,
Purple, gold, crimson,
Cheerful, colorful wall
It stands over a bright meadow.

Birches with yellow carving
Shine in blue azure,
Like towers, Christmas trees darken,
And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there in the foliage through
Clearances in the sky, that windows.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
During the summer it dried up from the sun,
And Autumn is a quiet widow
He enters his motley tower ...

Dry stalks of corn in the fields,

Wheel tracks and faded haulm.
In the cold sea - pale jellyfish
And red underwater grass.

Fields and autumn. Sea and naked
Rock breaks. Here is the night and here we go
To the dark shore At sea - lethargy
In all its great mystery.

"Do you see water?" - “I see only mercury
Foggy brilliance ... "No sky, no earth.
Only a star shine hangs under us - in a muddy
Bottomless phosphorus dust.

Poems about autumn:

Boris Pasternak

GOLD AUTUMN

Autumn. Fairy tale,
All open for review.
clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes

Like in an art exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.

Linden hoop gold -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
Birch face - under the veil
Wedding and transparent.

buried earth
Under foliage in ditches, pits.
In the yellow maples of the wing,
As if in gilded frames.

Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs,
And sunset on their bark
Leaves an amber trail.

Where you can not step into the ravine,
So that everyone does not know:
So raging that not a step
A tree leaf underfoot.

Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echoes at the steep slope
And dawn cherry glue
Freezes in the form of a clot.

Autumn. ancient corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
Flips through the cold.

Poems about autumn:

Nikolai Nekrasov

UNCOMPRESSED STRIP

Late fall. The rooks flew away
The forest is bare, the fields are empty,

Only one strip is not compressed ...
She makes a sad thought.

It seems that the ears whisper to each other:
We are bored listening to the autumn blizzard,

It's boring to bend down to the ground,
Fat grains bathed in dust!

We are being ruined by villages every night
Every flying gluttonous bird,

The hare tramples us, and the storm beats us ...
Where is our plowman? what else is waiting for?

Or are we born worse than others?
Or unfriendly blossomed-eared?

No! we are no worse than others - and for a long time
Grain has been poured and ripened in us.

Not for the same he plowed and sowed
So that the autumn wind will dispel us? .. "

The wind brings them a sad answer:
“Your plowman has no urine.

He knew why he plowed and sowed,
Yes, he started the work beyond his strength.

Poor poor fellow - does not eat or drink,
The worm sucks his sick heart,

The hands that brought these furrows,
They dried up to a chip, hung like whips.

Like on a plow, leaning on your hand,
The plowman thoughtfully walked in a lane.

Poems about autumn:

Agniya Barto

We didn't see the beetle
And the winter frames were closed,
And he's alive, he's still alive
Buzzing in the window
Spreading my wings...
And I call my mother for help:
-There's a live beetle!
Let's open the frame!

Poems about autumn:

V. Stepanov

SPARROW

Autumn looked into the garden -
The birds have flown away.
Outside the window rustling in the morning
Yellow blizzards.
Under the feet of the first ice
Crumbles, breaks.
The sparrow in the garden will sigh
And sing -
He is shy.

Poems about autumn:

Konstantin Balmont

AUTUMN

Cowberry ripens
The days got colder
And from the bird's cry
My heart became sadder.

Flocks of birds fly away
Away, beyond the blue sea.
All the trees are shining
In multi-colored attire.

The sun laughs less
There is no incense in flowers.
Autumn will wake up soon
And cry awake.

Poems about autumn:

Apollo Maykov

AUTUMN

Covers a golden leaf
Wet ground in the forest...
I boldly trample with my foot
Spring forest beauty.

Cheeks burn with cold;
I like to run in the forest,
Hear the branches crack
Rake the leaves with your feet!

I have no former pleasures here!
The forest has taken a secret from itself:
The last nut is plucked
Tied the last flower;

Moss is not raised, not blown up
A pile of curly mushrooms;
Doesn't hang around the stump
Purple lingonberry brushes;

Long on the leaves, lies
The nights are frosty, and through the forest
Looks cold somehow
Clear skies...

Leaves rustle under foot;
Death spreads its harvest...
Only I have a cheerful soul
And like crazy, I sing!

I know, not without reason among the mosses
I tore an early snowdrop;
Down to autumn colors
Every flower I have met.

What the soul told them
What did they say to her?
I remember, breathing happiness,
IN winter nights and days!

Leaves rustle underfoot...
Death spreads its harvest!
Only I am cheerful in soul -
And like crazy, I sing!

Autumn leaves are circling in the wind

Autumn leaves cry out in alarm:
“Everything is dying, everything is dying! You are black and naked
O our dear forest, your end has come!

The royal forest does not hear the alarm.
Under the dark azure of harsh skies
He was swaddled by mighty dreams,
And the strength for a new spring ripens in him.

Poems about autumn:

Nikolai Ogarev

IN AUTUMN

How good were sometimes spring bliss -
And the soft freshness of green grasses,
And leaves fragrant young shoots
On the branches of the quivering awakened oak forests,
And the day is a luxurious and warm radiance,
And bright colors gentle fusion!
But you are closer to the heart, autumn tides,
When a tired forest on the soil of a compressed field
With a whisper, it blows away the old sheets,
And the sun later from the desert height,
The despondency of the bright is fulfilled, looks ...
So peaceful memory silently illuminates
And past happiness and past dreams.

Poems about autumn:

Alexander Tvardovsky

NOVEMBER

The tree became more noticeable in the forest,
It is tidy and empty.
And naked as a panicle
Clogged with mud by the countryside,
Blown with hoar frost,
Trembling, whistling vine bush.

Between thinning tops

Blue appeared.
Noisy at the edges
Bright yellow foliage.
Birds are not heard. Crack small
broken knot,
And, with a flickering tail, a squirrel
Light makes a jump.
The spruce in the forest became more noticeable,
Protects deep shade.
Boletus last
He pushed his hat to one side.

Poems about autumn:

Athanasius Fet

IN AUTUMN

When the through web
Spreads the threads of clear days
And under the villager's window
The distant Annunciation is more audible,

We are not sad, afraid again
Breath of near winter,
And the voice of the summer lived
We understand more clearly.

Poems about autumn:

Fedor Tyutchev

Is in the autumn of the original
short but marvelous time -
The whole day stands as if crystal,
And radiant evenings ...
The air is empty, the birds are no longer heard,
But far from the first winter storms
And pure and warm azure pours
On the resting field…

Poems about autumn:

Sergey Yesenin

The fields are compressed, the groves are bare,
Fog and damp from the water.
Wheel behind the blue mountains
The sun went down quietly.
The blasted road is slumbering.
She dreamed today
What is very, very little
It remains to wait for the gray winter ...

Children's poems about autumn

E. Trutneva

In the morning we go to the yard -
Leaves fall like rain
Rustle underfoot
And fly... fly... fly...

Gossamer webs fly
With spiders in the middle
And high from the ground
The cranes flew by.

Everything flies! It must be
Our summer is flying by.

A. Berlova

NOVEMBER
Hands get cold in November
Cold, wind in the yard,
Late autumn brings
First snow and first ice.

SEPTEMBER
Autumn got the colors
She needs a lot of coloring.
Leaves are yellow and red
Gray - the sky and puddles.

OCTOBER
It's been raining since morning
It pours as if from a bucket,
And like big flowers
Umbrellas unfurl.

****
M. Isakovsky
AUTUMN
Zhito harvested, mowed hay,
The suffering and the heat have departed.
Drowning in foliage knee-deep,
Again, autumn stands at the yard.

Golden bales of straw
On currents on collective farms lie.
And guys dear friend
They rush to school.

****
A. Balonsky
IN THE FOREST
Leaves swirl over the path.
The forest is transparent and crimson ...
It's good to roam with a basket
Along the edges and glades!

We go and under our feet
A rustle of gold is heard.
Smells like wet mushrooms
Smells like forest freshness.

And behind the foggy haze
A river glitters in the distance.
Spread on the glades
Autumn yellow silks.

Through the needles a cheerful beam
I penetrated into the thicket of the spruce forest.
Good for wet trees
Remove the elastic boletus!

On the mounds of handsome maples
Scarlet burst into flames ...
How many saffron milk caps
We'll collect in a day in the grove!

Autumn walks through the forests.
There is no better time than this...
And in baskets we carry away
Forests are generous gifts.

Y. Kasparova

NOVEMBER
In November forest animals
They close the doors in the burrows.
Brown bear until spring
Will sleep and dream.

SEPTEMBER
Birds flew in the sky.
Why are they not at home?
September asks them: "In the south
Hide you from the winter blizzard.

OCTOBER
October brought us gifts:
Painted gardens and parks,
The leaves became like in a fairy tale.
Where did he get so much paint?

I. Tokmakova

SEPTEMBER
Summer is ending
Summer ends!
And the sun don't shine
And hiding somewhere.
And the rain is a first grader,
A little shy
In oblique line
Lining the window.

Y. Kasparova
AUTUMN LEAVES
The leaves are dancing, the leaves are spinning
And they lie like a bright carpet under my feet.
Like they're terribly busy
Green, red and gold...
maple leaves, oak leaves,
Purple, scarlet, even burgundy ...
I throw leaves up at random -
I, too, can arrange a leaf fall!

AUTUMN MORNING
The yellow maple looks out into the lake,
Waking up at dawn.
During the night the ground froze
All hazel in silver.

The belated ginger is squirming,
A broken branch is pressed.
On his chilled skin
Drops of light tremble.

Silence frightening disturbing
In a sensitively dormant forest
Moose roam cautious,
They gnaw at the bitter bark.

****
M. Sadovsky
AUTUMN
Birch braids untwisted,
The maples clapped their hands,
The cold winds have come
And the poplars flooded.

Willows drooped by the pond,
Aspens trembled
Oaks, always huge,
It's like they've gotten smaller.

Everything calmed down. Shrunk.
drooped. Turned yellow.
Only the Christmas tree is pretty
Better for winter
****
O. Vysotskaya
AUTUMN
autumn days,
There are large puddles in the garden.
The last leaves
The cold wind is spinning.

There are yellow leaves,
The leaves are red.
Let's put it in a bag
We are different leaves!

It will be beautiful in the room
Mom will say "thank you" to us!

****
Z. Alexandrova
TO SCHOOL
Yellow leaves are flying
The day is merry.
Leading a kindergarten
Kids to school.

Our flowers have bloomed
The birds are flying.
You are going for the first time
Study in first grade.

sad dolls sit
On an empty terrace.
Our fun kindergarten
Remember in class.

Remember the garden
A river in the far field.
We are also in a year
We will be with you at school.

Here is a selection of long poems about autumn. Short poems about autumn you can see here

Autumn

Immensely bright colors,
Beautiful eyes enveloped the wondrous forest,
Piercing the wind through the heart, with voices,
Testament to your wonderland.

The babbling brook does not sleep yet,
And the leaves are just falling
The same leaf, soaring in the forest,
Flies to the stream barely.

And in the morning the forest, the days are more beautiful,
In a light, hazy dream,
The foliage glitters in the dew,
Dreaming of spring again.

And more and more magnificent is that blanket,
Less hassle and worries
It suddenly became quieter
The last petal has fallen.

Queen Autumn

Autumn comes again with royal gait.
The Autumn Queen asks for nothing.

Proud posture, sky blue look.
Golden dress, thin figure of the goddess.

A gossamer of lace, a glance from under the veil,
And the sounds in the royal hall are silent.

Sighs of admiration - maple cavaliers,
Rdeya bowed their heads in bow.

Curtsy birches do, embarrassed,
Timidly hiding behind a golden fan.

A lace handkerchief is spinning in the air,
On his shoulder, trustingly, he sits down next to me.

Golden leaf, I won't touch you
I will only correct the autumn crown carefully

O.Fomicheva

Autumn. Thickets of the forest…

Autumn. Thickets of the forest.
Moss of dry swamps.
The lake is white.
Pale sky.
The water lilies have bloomed
And the saffron blossomed.
paved paths,
The forest is empty and naked.
Only you are beautiful
Though dry for a long time
In the bumps by the bay
Old alder.
You look feminine
In the water half asleep -
And you will become silver
First of all, spring.
In the whirlwind of autumn golden
The sunset burns with a candle.

I. Bunin

The air is fresh and clear
Flying yellow leaf
No heat, and the smell is savory
Autumn herbs ... Wind whistle.
Autumn, delighting with coolness,
Walks with wet steps
Delight after hot days
A drop of moisture will fall.
Crane wedge across the sky
Rushed into the distance, to the south,
Giving us his bliss,
In the village, making a detour.
Autumn, carefully taking off
colorful sundress,
Before winter completely naked
Marvelous will present his camp.

O. Varnikova

October

Changeable weather in October...
Doesn't spoil us with warm days,
But, nevertheless, how beautiful it is in the yard -
The trees are all covered with lace...

The colorful crowns burn with flowers,
And the wind pulls the flags on the towers ...
And the birds are already flying to the warm land,
And the sky does not skimp on moisture for us ...

So good in the evening under the window
Stay warm and away from people
And admire that autumn dream
With which all nature falls asleep,

Changeable autumn weather
Preparing to surrender to winter captivity,
To give the soul a flight of freedom ...
Looking forward to new changes...

A. Ryazantsev

autumn morning

The yellow maple looks out into the lake,
Waking up at dawn.
During the night the ground froze
All hazel in silver.

The belated ginger is squirming,
A broken branch is pressed.
On his chilled skin
Drops of light tremble.

Silence frightening disturbing
In a sensitively dormant forest
Moose roam cautious,
They gnaw at the bitter bark.

Various birds have flown
Silence their sonorous rehash
And the mountain ash celebrates autumn,
Wearing red beads.

O.Vysotskaya

Good-natured and gentle autumn warming,
The cold weather has not yet begun.
Only the tired green of the trees is fading,
Nuts are knocking dully on the ground.
We live, reveling in the last warmth,
Picking dry fruits -
And we accept the soul transition, fracture,
In which there is no sense of trouble.
We live, accepting the gifts of October,
And we do not grumble. And tenderly keep
The memory of the summer, which was not in vain,
Like everything else that comes with it.
…I do not know what an unidentified God is,
Where is he - in us, or maybe outside,
I just look how the flying leaf is circling,
Dropping onto your shoulder towards me.
Save me, O God, from vain deeds,
Let me live without harming my neighbors,
Give me happiness to step beyond the last limit
With a feeling: it was not in vain ...

L. Sirota

Early autumn gift ...

Early autumn gift -
Blue, clear day...
The shining afternoon is not hot;
No need for heavy shade.

Near the path, under the wild pear,
There is a bench on the grass;
"Sit down here! Look and listen!”
It's like he's talking to me.

Sat. I look around and listen.
I've been sitting for a long time...
Now to heaven, then to earth
I look with gratitude.

No chatty people...
Silence ... Only midges swarm
All about clear weather
Singing over me...

A. Zhemchuzhnikov

Autumn

And again, as in lovely years
longing, purity and miracles,
stares into the desolate waters
ruddy thinning forest.

Simple as God's forgiveness
transparent expands far.
Ah, autumn, my ecstasy,
my golden sadness!

Fresh, and cobwebs shine ...
Rustle, I pass along the river,
through the branches and bunches of rowan
I look at the quiet sky.

And the vault is blue wide,
and flocks of wandering birds
that timid childish lines
in the desert of old pages...

V. Nabokov

In the forest

Leaves swirl over the path.
The forest is transparent and crimson ...
It's good to roam with a basket
Along the edges and glades!

We go and under our feet
A rustle of gold is heard.
Smells like wet mushrooms
Smells like forest freshness.

And behind the foggy haze
A river glitters in the distance.
Spread on the glades
Autumn yellow silks.

Through the needles a cheerful beam
I penetrated into the thicket of the spruce forest.
Good for wet trees
Remove the elastic boletus!

On the mounds of handsome maples
Scarlet burst into flames ...
How many saffron milk caps
We'll collect in a day in the grove!

Autumn walks through the forests.
There is no better time than this...
And in baskets we carry away
Forests are generous gifts.

A. Balonsky

Autumn embraced nature
Taking in the hands of the brush and the canvas,
To color the branches-braids
Stately maples and birches.

Painterly strokes
Change the colors of summer
Multi-colored carpets
Cover damp ground.

Under the ringing sound of the surf,
The hubbub of seagulls, the whistle of the wind
Refresh the palette of the sea,
As a marine painter.

Into the blue of radiant skies
Mix gray colors
watercolor silvery
Paint the first snow.

Boldly, quickly, skillfully
Write a living landscape
And guests before it's too late
Invite to vernissage.

Autumn embraced nature
Taking the brush and the canvas in hand ...

L. Zelensky

Golden autumn

Autumn. Fairy tale,
All open for review.
clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes

Like in an art exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.

Linden hoop gold -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
Birch face - under the veil
Wedding and transparent.

buried earth
Under foliage in ditches, pits.
In the yellow maples of the wing,
As if in gilded frames.

Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs,
And sunset on their bark
Leaves an amber trail.

Where you can not step into the ravine,
So that everyone does not know:
So raging that not a step
A tree leaf underfoot.

Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echoes at the steep slope
And dawn cherry glue
Freezes in the form of a clot.

Autumn. ancient corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
Flips through the cold.

B.Pasternak

Leaves

Autumn is crying. Tears sick
Drops freeze on gray glass.
Leaves that have become unnecessary by the deadline,
They die on wet ground.

Depreciated old values
And the crowns were taken off the crowned...
Oh, the eternal formula of frailty -
Doom began to end!

We look at the world in puzzlement
And the smile fades from your face
As if in autumn we are destined
Realize the inevitability of the end.

But flying through the humming winds
And weaving into the carpet of November,
Leaves will tell us,
That their age was not noisy in vain.

Fly away, forgotten by all,
They will tell us, warming with hope,
What is not without reason in the palms open
They caught light for their father's trees.

And calmly leave, sure
What the coming leaves will take
Not counted by anyone, not measured
Their reliable, their sunny work.

Lyubov Sirota-Dmitrova

Here comes autumn again.
Summer days yellowed rustling.
The song of birds at the chilly dawn,
Brings a different sound into the morning.

Sad sun looks down from heaven
Blushing in embarrassment
And caresses the blushing forest,
Our eyes are amber crimson.

We will walk with you along the path,
On which autumn staggers,
Lost in the motley crowd
Among firs, birches and pines.

Clusters of scarlet thin mountain ash,
Set our souls on fire
And touches, suddenly, the trembling of aspens
Us foliage with carmine tan.

Farewell flight of cranes again,
Flying away into the warm distance
Sad dream of lonely fields,
A light haze will bring sadness.

E.Wentz

Autumn

Fog fell on the blue sea,
First-born leaf fall,
And burns in diamonds of frost
Horus leafless crown.

Cold waves go hard,
Violently wind rustles the wing.
Only greedy seagulls curl
On the empty coast.

Only shines behind the fogs,
Like a constellation of the seas
Over loose glades
A flock of late swans.

Only with stubborn rapacity
Their slow departure
Above the watchtower
Wild golden eagle guards.

Everything is lifeless, joyless
In the fading distance
But the sufferer is somehow sweet
The withering of the earth.

Like autumn breath
Beauty from her brow
So shine from my soul
The hand of fate broke.

At noon evening twilight -
Look languid peace,
General sadness blunts thorns
The memory of the homeland of the saint!

Wei with a sleepy song,
migratory blizzard,
The coldness of oblivion is peaceful
Hearts smoldering purpose.

Between me and my beloved
A hopeless "I'm sorry!"
Do not call the irrevocable,
The heart does not bloom twice.

Though sometimes a gentle smile
Illuminate my features
This is a snow rainbow
To grave flowers!

A. Bestuzhev

Autumn

The time of fogs, the maturity of the fields,
You secretly whisper with the late sun,
How to make our vines heavier
On the slopes of the roof, covered with reeds,
How to fill fruits with sweetness,
So that they, when ripe, bend the trunk,
Steam the pumpkin in the width of the ridge,
Make gardens bloom again and again
Where swarms of countless bees rush, -
Let them think that the whole year
Summer will last, honey will not dry out!

Your warehouse is in the barn, in the granary, in the hollow.
Wandering at will, you can see
You sitting in a barn on the ground,
And your winnower blows a strand.
Or in the fields you harvest rye
And, drunk on poppies, take a little nap,
Sparing the flowers of the last stripe,
Or carry sheaves on your head
On a shaky log across the stream.
Or squeeze apples tart juice
Drop by drop for long hours...

Where are the songs of spring? Ah, where are they?
Other songs praise your arrival.
When it lights up the stripes of fire
Above the empty stubble the sky,
Do you hear: a swarm of mosquitoes are ringing
Behind the willows - where the river bank is,
And the wind carries their mournful chorus into the distance.
Then the voices of the lambs will be heard,
So grown up in a few weeks
Robins wistful trill
And swallows farewell conversation!

I present to you a selection poems about autumn for children. They will tell children about the beauty of nature and its changes at this time of the year. Poems for autumn very beautiful, they are able to convey autumn mood both children and adults. You will find poems about each autumn month - September, October and November. In this collection, the poems are quite long, for older children. And for kids, you can pick up a poem from. Also, to get to know autumn, children can be offered and.

Autumn

Someone with yellow paint

Painted the forests

For some reason they became

Below the sky

Blazed brighter

Tassels of rowan.

All flowers withered

Only fresh wormwood.

I asked my dad:

- What happened all of a sudden?

And dad answered:

It's autumn, friend.

(N. Antonova)

Autumn

autumn days,

large puddles in the garden.

The last leaves

cold wind whirls.

There are yellow leaves,

the leaves are red.

Let's put it in a bag

we are different leaves!

It will be beautiful in the room

Mom will thank us.

(O. Vysotskaya)

To school

Yellow leaves are flying
The day is merry.
Leading a kindergarten
Kids to school.

Our flowers have bloomed
The birds are flying.
- You are going for the first time
Study in first grade.

sad dolls sit
On an empty terrace.
Our fun kindergarten
Remember in class.

Remember the garden
A river in the far field...
We are also in a year
We will be with you at school.

The suburban train has departed,
Rushing past the windows ...
- They promised well
The best way to learn!

(Z. Alexandrova)

autumn morning

The yellow maple looks out into the lake,
Waking up at dawn.
During the night the ground froze
All hazel in silver.

The belated ginger is squirming,
A broken branch is pressed.
On his chilled skin
Drops of light tremble.

Silence frightening disturbing
In a sensitively dormant forest,
Moose roam cautious,
They gnaw at the bitter bark.

Various birds have flown
Their sonorous rehashing is silent.
And the mountain ash celebrates autumn,
Wearing red beads.

(O. Vysotskaya)

In the forest

Leaves swirl over the path.
The forest is transparent and crimson ...
It's good to roam with a basket
Along the edges and glades!

We go and under our feet
A rustle of gold is heard.
Smells like wet mushrooms
Smells like forest freshness.

And behind the foggy haze
A river glitters in the distance.
Spread on the glades
Autumn yellow silks.

Through the needles a cheerful beam
I penetrated into the thicket of the spruce forest.
Good for wet trees
Remove the elastic boletus!

On the mounds of handsome maples
Scarlet burst into flames ...
How many saffron milk caps
We'll collect in a day in the grove!

Autumn walks through the forests.
There is no better time than this...
And in baskets we carry away
Forests are generous gifts.
(A. Bologna)

Autumn

Covers a golden leaf
Wet ground in the forest...
I boldly trample with my foot
Spring forest beauty.

Cheeks burn with cold;
I like to run in the forest,
Hear the branches crack
Rake the leaves with your feet!

I have no former pleasures here!
The forest has taken a secret from itself:
The last nut is plucked
Tied the last flower;

Moss is not raised, not blown up
A pile of curly mushrooms;
Doesn't hang around the stump
Purple lingonberry brushes;

Long lies on the leaves
The nights are frosty, and through the forest
Looks cold somehow
Clear skies...

Leaves rustle under foot;
Death spreads its harvest...
Only I have a cheerful soul
And like crazy, I sing!

I know, not without reason among the mosses
I tore an early snowdrop;
Down to autumn colors
Every flower I have met.

What the soul told them
What did they say to her?
I remember, breathing happiness,
In winter nights and days!
Leaves rustle underfoot...
Death spreads its harvest!
Only I am cheerful in soul -
And like crazy, I sing!

(A. Maykov)

Bunny

little bunny
On a damp valley
Before the eyes were amused
White flowers...

burst into tears in autumn
thin blades,
Paws are advancing
On yellow leaves.

Gloomy, rainy
Autumn has come,
Removed all the cabbage
Nothing to steal.

The poor bunny is jumping
Near the wet pines
Scary in the paws of the wolf
Gray to get ...

Thinking about summer
presses his ears,
Squinting at the sky -
Can't see the sky...

Just to be warmer
Just to dry...
Very unpleasant
Walk on water!

(A. Blok)

Autumn

Rain, rain
All day
Drumming on glass.
The whole earth
All earth
Wet from water.

Howling, howling
Outside the window
Disgruntled wind.
He wants to tear down the door
From creaky hinges.

Wind, wind, don't knock
In the locked passage;
Let them burn in our oven
Hot logs.

Hands reach for warmth
The glasses are misted up.
On the wall
And on the floor
Shadows danced.

Gather at my place
listen to a fairy tale
At the fire!

(Ya Akim)

What will autumn bring us?

What will autumn bring us?
What will autumn bring us?
— Ruddy apples, sweet honey,
Ruddy apples, sweet honey!

What will autumn bring us?
What will autumn bring us?
A vegetable garden full of different vegetables
A vegetable garden full of vegetables!

What will autumn bring us?
What will autumn bring us?
Golden bread for the whole year,
Golden bread for the whole year!

(L. Nekrasova)

Joke about Shura

leaf fall, leaf fall,
All the link rushed to the garden,
Shura came running.

Leaves (hear?) rustle:
Shurochka, Shurochka...

A shower of leaves lacy
Rustles about her alone:
Shurochka, Shurochka...

Three leaves swept,
Approached the teacher
- Things are going well!
(I'm working, mind you, they say,
Praise Shurochka,
Shurochka, Shurochka ...)

How the link works
Shura doesn't care
Just to point out
Whether in the classroom, in the newspaper,
Shurochka, Shurochka...

leaf fall, leaf fall,
The garden is buried in leaves,
Leaves rustle sadly
Shurochka, Shurochka...

(Agniya Barto)

Uncompressed strip

Late fall. The rooks flew away
The forest is bare, the fields are empty,

Only one strip is not compressed ...
She makes a sad thought.

It seems that the ears whisper to each other:
We are bored listening to the autumn blizzard,

It's boring to bend down to the ground,
Fat grains bathed in dust!

We are being ruined by the villages every night
Every flying gluttonous bird,

The hare tramples us, and the storm beats us ...
Where is our plowman? what else is waiting for?

Or are we born worse than others?
Or unfriendly blossomed-eared?

No! we are no worse than others - and for a long time
Grain has been poured and ripened in us.

Not for the same he plowed and sowed
So that the autumn wind will dispel us? .. "

The wind brings them a sad answer:
“Your plowman has no urine.

He knew why he plowed and sowed,
Yes, he started the work beyond his strength.

Poor poor fellow - does not eat or drink,
The worm sucks his sick heart,

The hands that brought these furrows,
They dried up to a chip, hung like whips.

Like on a plow, leaning on your hand,
The plowman thoughtfully walked in a lane.

(N. Nekrasov)

Autumn

Like a sad look, I love autumn.
On a foggy, quiet day I walk
I often go to the forest and sit there -
I look at the white sky
Yes, to the tops of dark pines.
I love, biting a sour leaf,
With a lazy smile,
Dream to do whimsical
Yes, listen to woodpeckers thin whistle.
The grass withered all ... cold,
A calm brilliance is poured over her ...
And sadness is quiet and free
I surrender with all my heart...
What can't I remember? Which
My dreams won't visit me?
And the pines bend as if alive,
And so thoughtfully noisy ...
And like a flock of huge birds,
Suddenly the wind will blow
And in the boughs tangled and dark
He hums impatiently.

(I. Turgenev)

autumn

How good were sometimes spring bliss -
And the soft freshness of green grasses,
And leaves fragrant young shoots
On the branches of the quivering awakened oak forests,
And the day is a luxurious and warm radiance,
And bright colors gentle fusion!
But you are closer to the heart, autumn tides,
When a tired forest on the soil of a compressed field
With a whisper, it blows away the old sheets,
And the sun later from the desert height,
The despondency of the bright is fulfilled, looks ...
So peaceful memory silently illuminates
And past happiness and past dreams.

(N. Ogarev)

Late autumn

Late autumn
I love the Tsarskoye Selo garden
When he is quiet half-dark,
As if in a nap, embraced

And white-winged visions
On the dim lake glass
In some bliss of numbness
They stagnate in this semi-darkness ...

And on the porphyry steps
Catherine's palaces
Dark shadows fall
October early evenings -

And the garden darkens like an oak tree,
And under the stars from the darkness of the night,
Like a reflection of a glorious past
The golden dome comes out ...
(F. Tyutchev)

Glorious autumn

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -

All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus' ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...

(N. Nekrasov)

Autumn

Autumn has come; bad weather
Rushing in the clouds from the seas;
The face of nature sullen,
The view of bare fields is not cheerful;
The forests are dressed in blue darkness,
Fog walks over the earth
And darkens the light of the eyes.
Everything dies, cooled down;
The space gave turned black;
Wrinkled his eyebrows white day;
The rains poured incessantly;
To the people in the neighbors settled
Longing and sleep, blues and laziness.
So it’s like the old man’s illness is boring;
That's right for me too
Always watery and boring
Foolish empty talk.

(A. Koltsov)

The sheets trembled, flying around

The sheets trembled, flying around,
The clouds of the sky covered the beauty
From the field a storm bursting evil
Vomits and mosques and howls in the forest.

Only you, my dear bird,
Barely visible in a warm nest,
Svetlogruda, light, small,
Not afraid of the storm alone.

And the roll call thunders,
And the noisy haze is so black...
Only you, my dear bird,
Barely visible in a warm nest.
(A. Fet)

The swallows are gone...

The swallows are gone
And yesterday dawn
All the rooks flew
Yes, like a network, flickered
Over that mountain.

In the evening everyone sleeps
It's dark outside.
The leaf falls dry
At night the wind is angry
Yes, knock on the window.

It would be better if snow and blizzard
Happy to meet you!
As if in fear
Shouting out to the south
The cranes are flying.

You will leave - willy-nilly
It's hard - even cry!
Look across the field
Tumbleweed
Jumps like a ball.

(A. Fet)

Tired all around

Tired all around: tired and the color of heaven,
And the wind, and the river, and the month that was born,
And the night, and in the greenery of the dull sleeping forest,
And the yellow leaf that finally fell off.

Only a fountain murmurs in the distant darkness,
Talking about life invisible, but familiar ...
O autumn night, how omnipotent you are
Refusal to fight and death languor!
(A. Fet)

leaf fall

Forest, like a painted tower,
Purple, gold, crimson,
Cheerful, colorful wall
It stands over a bright meadow.

Birches with yellow carving
Shine in blue azure,
Like towers, Christmas trees darken,
And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there in the foliage through
Clearances in the sky, that windows.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
During the summer it dried up from the sun,
And Autumn is a quiet widow
He enters his motley tower ...

(I. Bunin)

October dawn

The night has turned pale and the moon is setting
Over the river with a red sickle.
Sleepy fog in the meadows is silvering,
The black reed is damp and smoking,
The wind rustles the reeds.

Quiet in the village. Lamp in the chapel
Fading, tired grief.
In the quivering dusk of a chilled garden
Coolness pours with the steppe waves ...
Dawn breaks slowly.
(I. Bunin)

Autumn

Cowberry ripens
The days got colder
And from the bird's cry
My heart became sadder.

Flocks of birds fly away
Away, beyond the blue sea.
All the trees are shining
In multi-colored attire.

The sun laughs less
There is no incense in flowers.
Autumn will wake up soon
And cry awake.

(K. Balmont)

autumn

Autumn has come

dried flowers,

And look sad

Bare bushes.

Wither and turn yellow

Grass in the meadows

Only turns green

Winter in the fields.

A cloud covers the sky

The sun does not shine;

The wind howls in the field;

The rain is drizzling.

The waters rustled

fast stream,

The birds have flown away

To warm climes.

(A. Pleshcheev)

boring picture

Boring picture!
Clouds without end
The rain is pouring down
Puddles on the porch…
stunted rowan
Wet under the window
Looks village
Gray spot.
What are you visiting early
Autumn, come to us?
Still asks the heart
Light and warmth!
(A. Pleshcheev)

The fields are compressed, the groves are bare

The fields are compressed, the groves are bare,
Fog and damp from the water.
Wheel behind the blue mountains
The sun went down quietly.

The blasted road is slumbering.
She dreamed today
What is very, very little
It remains to wait for the gray winter.

Oh, and I myself am often ringing
I saw yesterday in the fog:
Red month foal
Harnessed to our sleigh.
(S. Yesenin)

Golden foliage swirled

Golden foliage swirled
In the pinkish water of the pond
Like a light flock of butterflies
With fading flies to the star.

I'm in love with this evening
The yellowing dol is close to the heart.
Youth-wind up to the shoulders
Headed on a birch hem.

And in the soul and in the valley coolness,
Blue dusk like a flock of sheep
Behind the gate of the silent garden
The bell will ring and freeze.

I've never been thrifty
So did not listen to rational flesh,
It would be nice, like willow branches,
To tip over into the pink waters.

It would be nice, on a haystack smiling,
Muzzle of the month to chew hay ...
Where are you, where are you, my quiet joy,
Loving everything, wanting nothing?
(S. Yesenin)

Golden autumn

Autumn. Fairy tale,
All open for review.
clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes

Like in an art exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.

Linden hoop gold -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
Birch face - under the veil
Wedding and transparent.

buried earth
Under foliage in ditches, pits.
In the yellow maples of the wing,
As if in gilded frames.

Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs,
And sunset on their bark
Leaves an amber trail.

Where you can not step into the ravine,
So that everyone does not know:
So raging that not a step
A tree leaf underfoot.

Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echoes at the steep slope
And dawn cherry glue
Freezes in the form of a clot.

Autumn. ancient corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
Flips through the cold.

(B. Pasternak)

Indian summer

Indian summer has come -
Days of farewell warmth.
Warmed by the late sun
The fly came to life in the crack.

Sun! What in the world is more beautiful
After a chilly day?
Gossamer light yarn
Wrapped around a knot.

Tomorrow it will rain fast,
A cloud covering the sun.
Silver gossamer
There are two or three days left.

Have pity, autumn! Give us light!
Protect from winter darkness!
Have pity on us, Indian summer:
These cobwebs are us.

(D. Kedrin)

Autumn

There was a late wind
Carry the ashes of rotten leaves
And dregs, like from plates,
Splashed out of the puddles.

The mountain ash was reddening in a bunch.
And the forest, dense recently,
Foliage shining gloriously,
Became visible to everyone.

It was like a close home
Where is the wallpaper torn off,
There are no lamps overhead, -
You know, it's hard.

At different ends
Having folded their curtains
And taking off your pictures,
The residents have moved out.

It rained from the mist,
The smell of preli lingered,
And as if burned
Wet trunks.

Oh dear houses!
In vain the heart is sad:
Everything will be done skillfully,
Everything will be whitened by winter.
(K. Vanshenkin)

Autumn

Love sublime origins
forests and pastures are preserved.
Invisibly Pushkin's lines
intertwined in the autumn leaf fall.

And in the midst of a delicate silence
in the font of the golden dream
Soul full of charm
And it is full of bright thoughts.

Native poetry freedom
embraced both the distance and the heights,
that where is Pushkin, where is nature,
go try it out...

(N. Rachkov)

Ooty-ooty

under the birch
Under the aspen
barely moving,
Like a duck brood
Leaves float on the river.

- Don't forget, don't forget
Come back to us in the spring!
- Ooty-ooty! .. Ooty-ooty ...
The world of the forest subsides.

And mother trees stand
And they rustle anxiously
And look at the very best
yellow
small
leafing through...

(M. Yasnov)

Autumn

On a bush-bush -
yellow leaves,
A cloud hangs in the blue, -
So it's time for autumn!

In the red leaves of the bank.
Each leaf is like a flag.
Our autumn park has become stricter.
All covered in bronze!

Autumn seems to me too
Getting ready for October...
In the red leaves of the bank.
Each leaf is like a flag!

(I. Demyanov)

harvest festival

Autumn decorates the squares
Multicolored foliage.
Autumn feeds the harvest
Birds, animals and you and me.
And in the gardens, and in the garden,
Both in the forest and by the water.
Prepared by nature
All kinds of fruits.
The fields are being cleaned
People collect bread.
The mouse drags the grain into the mink,
To have lunch in winter.
Root squirrels dry,
bees store honey.
Grandma cooks jam
He puts apples in the cellar.
Harvest is born -
Collect the gifts of nature!
In the cold, in the cold, in bad weather
The harvest will come in handy!

(T. Bokova)

autumn

In the crane sky
The wind carries clouds.
The willow whispers to the willow:
"Autumn. Autumn again!

Leaves yellow downpour,
The sun is below the pines.
Willow whispers:
"Autumn. Autumn soon!"

Frost on the shrub
He threw on a white cloak.
The oak whispers to the mountain ash:
"Autumn. Autumn soon!"

Fir trees whisper
In the middle of the forest:
"Soon will notice
And it will curl up soon!

(A. Efimtsev)

Autumn omens

thin birch
Dressed in gold.
Here comes the sign of autumn.

The birds are flying away
To the land of warmth and light,
Here is another one for you
Autumn omen.

Sowing rain drops
All day since dawn.
This rain too
Autumn omen.

Proud boy, happy:
After all, he is wearing
school shirt,
Bought in the summer.

Girl with a briefcase.
Everyone knows that this is
Autumn coming
True omen.

(L. Preobrazhenskaya)

Look how beautiful the day is

Look how beautiful the day is
And how clear the sky
As the ash tree burns under the sun,
Maple burns without fire.

And circles over the meadow,
Like a firebird, a crimson leaf.

And scarlet like rubies
Rowan berries bloom
Waiting for guests
Red-breasted bullfinches…

And on a hillock, in red leaves,
As if in lush fox fur coats,
majestic oaks
With sadness look at the mushrooms -

old and small
Russula scarlet
And purple fly agaric
In the middle of wormholes...

The day is drawing to a close,
Goes to sleep in the red tower
The sun is red from the sky...
The leaves are fading.
The forest fades.
(I. Maznin)

Autumn awards

swayed
Noisy
In the dark thicket
Pines, firs!
Encounter with the wind
So happy:
He gives them
Rewards!
Attaches
"Order of the Maple"
On the uniform
Pine green.
red order,
notched,
with golden
Border!
And handily
medals
each spruce
The winds have come!
golden
Yes, pink
"Aspen",
"Birch"!

(A. Shevchenko)

Gathered and flew

Gathered and flew
Ducks on a long journey.
Under the roots of an old spruce
The bear is making a lair.
The hare dressed in white fur,
The bunny got warm.
Wears a squirrel for a whole month
For reserve mushrooms in the hollow.
The wolves roam the dark night
For prey in the forests.
Between the bushes to the sleepy grouse
The fox is escaping.
Hides the nutcracker for the winter
In the old moss nuts cleverly.
Capercaillie pinch needles.
They came to us for the winter
Northerners-bullfinches.

(E. Golovin)

Autumn in the forest

Autumn forest every year
Pays gold to enter.
Look at the aspen -
All dressed in gold
And she babbles:
"Stenu ..." -
And shivering from the cold.

And the birch is happy
Yellow outfit:
“Well, the dress!
What a delight!”
Leaves quickly scattered
The frost came suddenly.
And the birch whispers:
"I'll chill!..."

Lost weight at the oak
Gilded coat.
The oak caught on, but it's too late
And he roars:
“I'm freezing! I'm freezing!"
Deceived gold -
Didn't save me from the cold.

(From A. Gontar, translated by V. Berestov)

Soon white blizzards

Soon white blizzards
Snow will rise from the ground.
Fly away, fly away
The cranes have flown.

Do not hear the cuckoo in the grove,
And the birdhouse was empty.
The stork flaps its wings -
Fly away, fly away!

Leaf sways patterned
In a blue puddle on the water.
A rook walks with a black rook
In the garden along the ridge.

Showered, turned yellow
The sun's rays are rare.
Fly away, fly away
The rooks have also flown away.
(E. Blaginina)

Sheet

Quiet, warm, gentle autumn
withered leaves spread everywhere,
paints in lemon, orange color
light.
On sidewalks, lawns, alleys
she pours them, not sparing at all, -
hung over the window in the web
sheet.
Open the window. And a trusting bird
on my palm, spinning, sits down,
light and cold, gentle and pure
sheet.
Wind gust. The leaf flies from the palm
here he is on the next balcony,
moment - and, bypassing the wide cornice,
down!
(A. Starikov)

Autumn has come

Autumn has come
It started to rain.
How sad is
Gardens look.

The birds were reaching out
To warm climes.
A farewell is heard
The scream of a crane.

The sun does not pamper
Us with their warmth.
Northern, frosty
Blows cold.

It's very sad
Sad at heart
Because it's summer
Do not return already.
(E. Arsenina)

fall leaf lesson

And in pairs, in pairs after her,
For my dear teacher
Solemnly we leave the village.
And in the puddles from the lawns there was a lot of foliage!

“Look! On dark Christmas trees in the undergrowth
Maple stars burn like pendants.
Bend over for the prettiest leaf
Veins of crimson on gold.

Remember everything, how the earth falls asleep,
And the wind covers it with leaves.
And in the maple grove lighter and lighter.
All new leaves fly off the branches.

We play and rush under the leaf fall
With a sad, thoughtful woman nearby.

(V. Berestov)

Autumn worries of a hare

What's on the rabbit's mind?
Prepare for winter.

Obtain not in the store
Down jacket excellent winter.

white-white whiteness,
To run in it until spring.

The former became cold,
Yes, and - gray, and - too small.

He is in the winter of the enemy pack,
Like a target on a slope.

It will be safer in the new
Not more noticeable to dogs and owls.

White snow and white fur -
And warmer and more beautiful than all!

(T. Umanskaya)

Autumn assignments

Morning in the forest
Above the silver thread
Spiders are busy -
Telephone operators.
And now from the Christmas tree
To the aspen
Like wires, they sparkle
Cobwebs.
Calls are ringing:
- Attention! Attention!
Listen to autumn
Tasks!
Hello, bear!
- I'm listening to! Yes Yes!
- Not far off
Cold!
Until the winter came
To the threshold
Do you need urgently
Find a den!
The bells are ringing
At squirrels and hedgehogs,
From the top
And to the lower floors:
- Check it out soon
Your pantries -
Are there enough supplies
For wintering.
The bells are ringing
At the old swamp:
- Herons have everything ready
For a flight?
Everything is ready for departure!
- Good luck!
Don't forget again
Look in!
Linden bells are ringing
And for maple:
– Hello! Tell,
Who is on the phone?
– Hello! By the phone
Ants!
– close
Your ants!
Tell me, is this a river?
River, river!
- And why for crayfish
No place?
And the river says:
- These are lies!
I will show you,
Where do crayfish hibernate?
- Hello guys!
Good afternoon guys!
Already on the street
It's cold!
Time for the birds
Hang out feeders
On the windows, on the balconies,
On the edge!
After all, the birds
Your faithful friends
And about our friends
You can't forget!

(V. Orlov)

From dawn to dusk

Forests are turning
In painted sails.
Autumn again
leaves again
Without beginning, without end
Over the river
And at the porch.

Here they are floating somewhere -
That back
And then go ahead.
From dawn to dusk
The wind is tearing them apart.

all day long
The rains are slanting
Pulling threads through the woods
As if mending painted
Golden sails...

(V. Stepanov)

Until next summer

Quietly the summer is leaving
dressed in leaves.
And stays somewhere
in a dream or in reality:
silver fly
in spider webs
undrunk mug
steam milk.
And a glass stream.
And warm earth.
And above the forest glade
buzzing bumblebee.

Autumn comes quietly
dressed in mist.
She brings rain
from foreign countries.
And a yellow heap of leaves,
and the scent of the forest
and dampness in dark burrows.

And somewhere behind the wall
alarm clock until dawn
chirping on the table:
“Until bu-du-sche-th-let,
to bu-du-sche-go-le- ... "

(Tim Sobakin)

Autumn in the dance is crying softly

Dissolved autumn braids
Blazing fire.
More often frost, less often dew,
Rain - cold silver.

Autumn bared her shoulders
In the neckline all the trees -
Soon the ball, farewell evening ...
The leaves are waltzing.

Chrysanthemums with marvelous fur
Decorate autumn outfit.
The wind is not a hindrance to the ball -
Louder music a hundred times!

Unleashed autumn braids,
The wind ruffles silk hair.
More often frost, less often dew,
Sweeter is the smell of late roses.

Autumn in the dance is crying softly
Lips tremble in a whisper.
In puddles, sad eyes hide.
The birds are circling mournfully.

Holding out a leaf like a hand
Waving sad "Goodbye" ...
Autumn, feeling parted,
Whispers tearfully: "Remember ..."
(N. Samoniy)

Plums fall in the garden...

Plums fall in the garden
A noble treat for wasps…
Yellow leaf bathed in the pond
And welcomes early autumn.

He pretended to be a ship
The wind of wandering shook him.
So we'll follow him
To piers unknown in life.

And we already know by heart:
In a year there will be a new summer.
Why the universal sadness
In every line in the poetry of poets?

Is it because the traces on the dew
Will the showers wash away and the winters get cold?
Is it because the moments are all
Fleeting and unique?

(L. Kuznetsova)

Autumn

Autumn. Silence in the dacha village,
And desert-voiced on earth.
Gossamer in transparent air
Cold as a crack in glass.

Through the sandy pink pines
The roof is bluish with a cockerel;
In a light, hazy velvet sun -
Like a peach touched with fluff.

At sunset, magnificent, but not sharp,
The clouds are waiting for something, frozen;
Holding hands, they shine
The last two, the most golden ones;

Both turn their faces to the sun
Both fade from one end;
The elder bears the feather of the firebird,
The youngest is a fluff of a fire-chick.
(N. Matveeva)

Complains, cries

Complains, cries
Autumn outside the window
And hides tears
Under someone else's umbrella...

Sticks to passers-by
Bores them -
different, different,
Sleepy and sick...

That makes you tedious
windy longing,
That breathes a cold
The humidity of the city ...

What do you need
Weird madam?
And in response - annoying
Whip on wires…
(A. Herbal)

Autumn is coming

Gradually getting colder
And the days got shorter.
Summer is running fast
A flock of birds, flashing in the distance.

Already the rowans have turned red,
The grass has become withered
Appeared on the trees
Bright yellow foliage.

In the morning the fog swirls
Motionless and gray-haired,
And by noon the sun warms
Like a hot summer day.

But the wind barely blows
And autumn leaves
Flickers in a bright dance
Like sparks from a fire.
(I. Butrimova)

leaf fall

Fallen leaves crunch underfoot
The whole earth, covered with a multi-colored carpet,
And maple autumn cold flame
Sparkles in the sun like a farewell fire.

And the wind plays with a rowan branch
And the clusters flash in the autumn foliage.
There has long been a sign among the people,
With a lot of mountain ash - for a cold winter.

The last daisies have golden eyes
Reminded again of the departed warmth
And drops of dew, like living tears,
From their white cilia flow at dawn.

And the wind drives the fallen leaves
And the cranes fly like a sad wedge.
I have a train that rushed from summer to autumn,
A yellow ticket will wave in the distance.
(I. Butrimova)

September is beautiful...

In red boots, in a yellow suit,
September came out in a fashionable outfit.
In a wheat curl, to the envy of the virgins,
The viburnum ruby ​​is skillfully woven.

Walking like a dandy on the grasses of the meadow,
He brings gifts to his friends.
Aspens in a grove, in a birch forest
Waiting for the color of honey and gold in braids.

Handed out all the colors September is generous,
But there was not enough pine and cedar,
And linden and oak are not enough of them ...
Calls September to help his brother.

In an amber tailcoat, to the sound of streams,
October feasts in gardens and parks,
And gold pours of various samples.
November, all in white, is on the way.

History of the Bois de Boulogne

In French, boulogne is "birch", but the name of the Bois de Boulogne is not associated with this tree at all. There are practically no birches here. In the XIV century, King Philip IV, having visited a pilgrimage in the seaside town of Boulogne-sur-Mer, ordered to build exactly the same church of Our Lady here. At that time, the oak forest of Rouvre was located here, which was donated to the abbey of Saint-Denis in the 8th century, and later bought by King Philip II Augustus for his hunting grounds. But by the name of the church, the forest itself began to be called Boulogne, which in the 15th century was finally fixed by the decree of Louis XI.

At times Hundred Years War Numerous British robber groups were hiding in the forest, especially many people died from attacks in 1416-1417. In addition, significant areas were destroyed due to fires.

After the end of the war, the affected areas were again planted with trees, roads were built. The Bois de Boulogne became the resting place for Parisian aristocrats.

Mine modern look the park was acquired largely thanks to Emperor Napoleon III, who in 1853 bought the territory from the mayor's office of Paris. In accordance with his desire to create a forest park in the image of London's Hyde Park, the relief was transformed here, many winding paths appeared, artificial lakes with islands and cascades of waterfalls, more than 200 thousand trees of various types were additionally planted.

  • The world's first flight took place in the Bois de Boulogne hot-air balloon: November 21, 1783, Jean-Francois Pilatre-de-Rozier with the Marquis Francois d "Arlande took to the air and after 25 minutes landed safely on the other side of the Seine.
  • In the 17th century, the Bois de Boulogne was a popular place for duels, not only for men, but also for women.
  • The Bagatelle Palace was built on a dare by the brother of Louis XVI in just 2 months, while 900 workers were involved, and the name itself in French means "trifle".
  • By order of Henry of Navarre, 15 thousand mulberry trees- The king planned to create silk production.
  • In those days, when there was still a dense forest of Rouvre, the daughter of Saint Louis founded convent Longchamp to keep the nuns away from the temptations of Paris. Nevertheless, already in the 15th century, the nuns of Longchamps were famous for their special licentiousness.
  • The founder of the temple of Our Lady of Boulogne, which gave its name to the forest, King Philip II could not pray in it, as he did not live to see the completion of construction.
  • They managed to get rid of the robber gangs thanks to the construction of the Chateau de Madrid hunting castle - the royal guards constantly patrolled and combed the area.

Nature and active recreation

In the Bois de Boulogne you can ride a bike or walk, there are also special paths for jogging. Total length all tracks for various purposes - 86 km. Almost all the alleys here are winding. More than half of all trees are oaks, but there are also hornbeam, cedar, linden and chestnut groves. The park is decorated with several dozen fountains.

The largest reservoirs are the Upper and Lower Lakes, but there are also small ponds of Suresnes, Longchamps, Boulogne, Armenouville, St. James. There is a ferry to the artificial island in the middle of the Lower Lake, and you can rent a boat on both reservoirs.

Bagatelle Palace is located in the center of the Bois de Boulogne, surrounded by the park of the same name. Most of all, visitors are attracted by the rose garden, in which more than 9,000 bushes are planted.

The Shakespeare Garden deserves special attention. A 200-year-old huge oak tree grows in it. The Green Theater equipped here hosts amateur productions of plays by Shakespeare and other world famous authors.

Nearby is the Auteuil Conservatory, where exotic plants. The design of the greenhouses was developed by the famous designer J.C. Formiger. The spacious area is divided into sectors in which plants from various countries peace. Tropical and subtropical cultures are especially interesting.

Horse riding enthusiasts will be interested in visiting the Longchamp and Auteuil racecourses. Longchamp is located on the site where the monastery of the same name used to be, and is used for dressage of trotters. Obstacle races are held on Auteuil. Visitors can also take a horse ride: 28 km of special paths have been laid for this and horse riding instructors work.

On the edge of the Bois de Boulogne, there are the Roland Garros courts, the courts of which are provided to everyone in their free time from tournaments.

Museums and entertainment

Most interesting place The Bois de Boulogne, especially for visitors with children, is the Garden of Acclimatization, or Climatic Garden. There is a zoo with rare animals, attractions, more than 12 playgrounds, and a bowling alley. The Museum of Natural Masterpieces is also open to visitors.

Initially, the garden was created to study the adaptation of plants and animals atypical for Europe to the local climate. Now the slope is more Botanical Garden and development of children, their interest and attention to nature. For example, the Kitchen Garden is designed to introduce toddlers to plant species that can be eaten. And at Little Norman Farm there is a real well and a barnyard, where geese and ducks lead the usual rural life: go to a watering hole to the pond and come back in the evening. You can also feed goats and rabbits on the farm.

History lovers in the Bois de Boulogne will be interested in the Museum of Traditions and Folk Art of France. It is dedicated to the history of life and crafts of the French people. Here you can see rare exhibits, as well as watch slides and read information about folk crafts.

The Museum of Modern Art of the Louis Vuitton Foundation deserves special attention. It is remarkable not only for its expositions, but also for its unusual architectural design. Initially, the Parisians were against such a building, considering it disfiguring the appearance of the city. And even achieved a ban on construction. But in the end, the building was nevertheless erected and, undoubtedly, became one of the masterpieces modern architecture, a challenge to traditionalism in art. The construction of the complex lasted 12 years, more than 100 engineers worked on it.

Now 11 pavilions display paintings by contemporary artists, including those from the personal collections of wealthy residents of the French capital. Concerts and film screenings are also held in the equipped halls, and on one of the 4 terraces you can admire the panorama from above and get an unforgettable experience.

The Bois de Boulogne can be visited at any time of the year. In summer, outdoor activities are held here. For example, in the Climate Garden, classes with children are held right on the grass. Attractions and museums are open all year round.

Every year in June in Bagatelle Park is held international competition roses. Contenders for victory land in the center of the park with numbers, but no names. Anyone can vote: for this you need to fill out a special coupon. For the winner, in addition to a diploma, a medal and a cash prize, the honor is given to be sniffed by the Queen of England. For this, the flower is delivered to the palace on a special stretcher. From the petals, marmalade is subsequently brewed according to a special recipe, which becomes part of the Royal Collection of Marmalades and Confitures.

In the Bois de Boulogne, competitions are held annually at the hippodrome: in July, the races at the Paris Grand Prix, and in early October, competitions for the prize Arc de Triomphe. The tennis tournament "Roland Garros" takes place at the stadium of the same name every year in May-June.

Information for tourists

The park itself is open around the clock, admission is free. However, entrance to the various museums, gardens and attractions must be paid separately.

The climatic garden is open from 9:00 to 18:00 on weekdays, from 10:00 to 19:00 on weekends, on holidays and on holidays. Entrance fee - 3.5 euros for adults and children over 3 years old; kids younger age pass for free.

A ticket to the Museum of Modern Art costs 9 euros. Opening hours: Monday, Wednesday, Thursday - from 12:00 to 19:00, Friday - from 12:00 to 21:00, Saturday and Sunday - from 11:00 to 20:00.

Bagatelle Park is open every day from October to February from 9:30 to 17:00, in March - from 9:30 to 18:30, from April to September - from 9:30 to 20:00. The entry fee is 8 euros.

The National Folk Art Museum is open daily, except Tuesday, from 9:30 am to 5:15 pm. Entrance costs 4 euros.

If this is your first time going for a walk in the Bois de Boulogne, then it is better to decide on the places that are most interesting to you. It will take several hours to walk around the entire park. At the same time, the Bois de Boulogne is perfectly equipped for recreation: there are many benches, squares, restaurants and cafes designed for different budgets.

How to get there

The Bois de Boulogne is located in the 16th arrondissement of Paris. The easiest way to get to it is by metro, Porte Dauphine or Porte d "Auteuil station. From the suburbs, you can take the train - Avenue Foch or Porte-Maillot stations.

Bois de Boulogne- This is a huge park in the west of Paris, one of the two "lungs" of the French capital. From ancient times, the Bois de Boulogne was notorious: robbers hunted there, hordes of the British hid, scoured wild animals. Even today, after dark, it becomes uncomfortable and even a little dangerous in the forest, as prostitutes, transvestites and various informals gather there. But in the daytime it is a beautiful park, two and a half times the size of Central Park in New York. Lakes, hiking trails, bike paths, restaurants and cafes, an acclimatization garden, an amusement park, a menagerie, as well as the famous Longchamp Hippodrome are scattered throughout the Bois de Boulogne. You can’t get around everything in one day, so we’ll go for a walk around the Lower Lake, and we’ll explore the rest of the forest sometime next time.

It is said that in 1814 Russian troops set up a bivouac in the Bois de Boulogne and cut down a huge number of trees. The forest then had to be restored. Today it belongs to the 16th arrondissement of Paris, so the city hall is responsible for maintaining order and arranging the territory.

Here you can see landscapes that are unlikely to be found within a radius of a couple of hundred kilometers from Paris.


The park was conceived from the start English style, like Hyde Park in London - winding paths, a large lake, artificial rivers and waterfalls.

For Parisians, this is an ideal place for sports. Great amount people jogging - sometimes it seems that there are more people running than just walking.


Yoga, gymnastics and more exercise are also successful.


Sometimes you can find people in very strange positions.


On a bicycle, you can go around the entire forest much faster than on foot, combining tourism with physical activity.

The presence of the lake itself implies the rental of boats.

Great idea for a Sunday family outing.

Here, in my opinion, Queen Elizabeth got into the frame.

Those of you who have watched the movie Life of Pi will remember the name of the ship, the Tzimtzum.




Calm, Sunday fishing on the Lower Lake.

A local attraction is the imperial kiosk, created at the request of Napoleon III, fascinated by oriental culture and art.

One of the waterfalls.


Restaurant "Island Cottage" - a real Swiss chalet, transported from Bern. A small ferry runs between the island and the shore, which is visible on the left in the photo.

Natural beauty of the Bois de Boulogne.





A great place for people watching - constantly someone passes, runs, drives. It is very interesting to try to guess what this or that person is doing. Primary school teacher?

Golden youth?

Top manager in a large company?

This is where today's walk ends, although we have not examined even a fifth of the entire forest. Well, we'll have to come back here with the offensive warm days. Or maybe try to finally get to Roland Garros? After all, the courts of this prestigious tennis tournament also found in the Bois de Boulogne. Wait and see!


What do you associate the Bois de Boulogne with?